Of Sandwiches and Soulmates
by adamfranc
Summary: 'You definitely shouldn't be in here. Here being Aunt Lilly's basement. Or to be more exact, inside the large translucent purple structure, also known as the time machine Aunt Lilly has been working on since she was in college.' When Aunt Amy inadvertently ruins her life, can Emily travel back in time to save her family's future? Emily as Bechloe's lovechild AU.
1. A Series of Unfortunate Events

**Hi there. I'm not new to the world of fanfiction but it has been a long long time since I've written anything so my apologies if it is absolutely atrocious. So I've accidentally fallen into the Pitch Perfect/Bechloe fandom and I've become a bit of a sucker for this Emily is Beca and Chloe's lovechild from the future AU, and I know there's a lot of really great content out there already but I thought I'd try my hand at it anyway.**

 **I'll be trying to follow the events of Pitch Perfect 2 as closely as possible with some added scenes and various things missed out that don't follow how I want to it to go because that creative license is the best thing about fanfic after all. This is also my first proper foray into experimenting with second person narrative and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. So if you hate it, I do apologise. Also, I'm English and I know Emily is American so I'm trying to cater to that which has been difficult because my word processor keeps autocorrecting sidewalk back to pavement. So if I make any slip ups, again, my apologies.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect. Some of the dialogue has been taken directly from the script and I in no way claim to have written these lines myself nor will I benefit in any way monetarily from this (largely because I've been writing this obsessively for the past three days when I'm supposed to be looking for a job).**

 **Enjoy! (and if you have a quick second do feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks.)**

* * *

You're one hundred percent sure you shouldn't be in here. And not just because your Moms have expressly forbidden you from going within ten blocks of Aunt Lilly's house without supervision.

Their concern isn't without reason of course, considering the one and only time Aunt Lilly ever babysat you as a child you had ended up lost in a graveyard for five hours. Your Mom had been nearly hysterical and Ma had threatened to bury Aunt Lilly alive (although apparently that had happened to her twice already; from what you had heard from her whispered reply).

But you definitely shouldn't be in here.

Here being Aunt Lilly's basement. Or to be more exact, inside the large translucent purple, egg-shaped structure also known as the time machine Aunt Lilly has been working on since she was in college.

Nope, you definitely shouldn't be here. And you especially shouldn't be running your fingers over the many knobs and buttons on the huge control board in front of you.

But you've always been a curious person. Your Ma's always said that you have a serious case of the three C's. Curious, Clumsy and Cute. The first two tended to get you into an awful lot of trouble. Luckily the latter was rather effective at getting you out of said trouble.

Like the time you'd snuck into Ma's office to go on her laptop and had somehow managed to delete the very important base track she had been developing for weeks with one accidental press of your finger. As soon as your eyes had started to tear up and your chin quiver under her reprimanding gaze she had caved and pulled you into a tight hug with a mere 'just stay out of Mama's office when she's not home, okay Em?'

Or Like the time you had been on a train journey with your Mom when you were seven and she had taken you to the toilet only for you to start messing around with the automatic lock button whilst she was peeing. Let's just say the group of people queueing outside had received quite a shock when the door had slid open to reveal Mom sitting on the toilet with her pants around her ankles. All things considered, she had been surprisingly forgiving. She had been more annoyed at your Ma (who still likes to tell this particular anecdote at every possible occasion), for bursting into uncontrollable laughter for days after hearing of the incident, than she was at you for actually causing it.

So yeah. You have the best parents in the world. And also, you and anything to do with buttons should clearly never mix.

Hence why you should really be anywhere but here.

But it was too late now. And it's not as though you were actually going to do anything stupid. Curiosity doesn't always end in disaster. Although it pretty much always has for you. A quick glance down at the thick white scar on your index finger is proof enough.

Ever wondered what would happen if you tried to pet an angry squirrel trapped in your attic? Yeah...you wouldn't recommend it.

But you're eighteen now. You're off to college in the fall. You've totally learned your lesson from all of these minor disasters. So obviously, when the biggest button at the very centre of the time machine's control board starts to glow a luminous purple you immediately move your hands away, take several steps back and high-tail it out of there.

Except...

In the time it takes for you to formulate this very logical, adult appropriate plan...

You've already pressed it.

 _Damn it, Emily._

There's a flash of blinding purple light followed by a deafening crack before you hear a loud thud and the next thing you know something soft and heavy has collapsed on top of you and you can't breathe.

"Shit on a stick!" A very familiar voice exclaims from above you. "Doctor who is such a _lying_ sack of wallaby turd."

"Aunt Amy?!"

She finally rolls off of you with a grunt of surprise, leaving you lying prostrate on your back and vaguely wondering a) what the _hell_ just happened and b) whether your spine is completely intact.

"Legacy!" She's as shocked to see you as you are her. "What are you doing here, whitebait?"

"I could ask you the same question." You shoot her a look.

"Alright, Shawshank Jr." She reaches down to help you up. "Chill."

Her hand is sweaty and as you survey the rest of her you realise that she looks like she's seen a ghost.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah...just a lot of vertical running." She says after a moment. "Thank God you were here. Lilly said something about not being able to get back unless someone on the other side is there to press the button."

"I can't believe it works!"

You feel a sudden uncontrollable excitement. A trait you definitely inherited from your redheaded mother.

"Dude, you just travelled through time! How long has Aunt Lilly known? What was it like? Where did you go? Did you see dinosaurs? Cavemen? Did you go to the future? Into space? Oh my God. Did you go back and meet Taylor Swift in her prime?!"

"Whoa, whoa, cool it aca-baby." Aunt Amy flaps her hands at you, before pulling on her collar guiltily. "I went back to the past. When me and your folks and the rest of the Bellas were in our final year of college."

"When you lost the World Championship to Das Sound Machine?"

It had been your favourite bedtime story as a child. Although the Bellas had ultimately bowed out of the world of acapella that day after failing to be reinstated, your Mom always told it as the greatest love story there ever was. It had set the cogs in motion for your parents to finally admit their feelings for each other, both of them discovering that even though the Bellas had come to an end, some things were just beginning. Some things were just meant to be.

"The very one. Those Deutschbags." Aunt Amy muttered darkly.

"Why did you go back to then?" You ask, curious as ever.

"Well...Um..." Aunt Amy pulls at her collar again and you eye her suspiciously. "You know. Just...reasons."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Umm...mmm...wellll..."

"Aunt Amy!"

"I may have ruined your future." Aunt Amy pinched her thumb and forefinger together. "But only like a little bit."

"What?!"

"Okay, maybe a lot bit."

"What do you mean you've ruined my future?!" You're starting to hyperventilate now, fanning your face with your hands.

"Well..." Aunt Amy shuffled her feet, still looking incredibly guilty. "I'm sure you know the story of how your Moms got together. All that overly dramatic, romantic movie crap."

"Yeah, Mom must have told it to me a thousand times." You nod, calming down significantly as you dreamily recall your favourite story. "It was the week after you guys got back from Worlds. Ma was supposed to get on a plane with Jesse and move to L.A the next day and Mom was going to move back in with her parents in Florida and find a teaching job. And they would probably never see each other after that and go on with their horrible soulmateless lives because they were too cowardly to tell each other how they felt even though pretty much everybody knew that they were totes in love with each other."

"Yeah yeah, alright Ginger Jr., quit it with the moon eyes. We've got a situation on our hands, remember?" Amy flicks you on the forehead and it sends you right back into panic mode again.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Well..."

"If you say 'well' one more time, God help me..."

"Jeez, alright. So I may have ruined the moment."

"The moment?"

" _The_ moment. You know, when Beca finally pulls her head out of her arse and snogs Chloe silly and then they get married and have aca-babies and blah blah blah." Aunt Amy shrugs,clearly trying to look as innocent as possible.

You're pretty sure that's not exactly how it happened, but that doesn't matter right now.

"What exactly do you mean when you say that you ruined the moment?" You're trying to stay calm, you really are. But in actuality, you're probably about as calm as your Mom was when five-year-old you was playing in that open grave by yourself for five hours.

"Well I didn't know that it happened in the kitchen did I?"

"How could you not know? Mom talks about that moment _all_ the time!"

"Look, no offence, but I hear about twenty five percent of what comes out of your mother's mouth. Thirty tops. And only really when she's singing."

 _Oh my God._

"Oh my _God._ " You're seriously freaking out now. "So what? That's it? I just don't exist in this reality now? But I'm still here! Wouldn't I have disappeared if you'd ruined my entire existence? Aha!" You're pretty sure you're a genius. And also, you have faith that your Moms really are soulmates, meaning that even if they missed _the_ moment, surely they'd have still found a way back to each other regardless. "See, I'm still here, meaning that I must still exist. Ma never loved Uncle Jess like that anyway. They must still have gotten together. Mom will just have to tell me a new bedtime story."

You sigh with relief. It was fine. Just a small blip. A story to tell her own children.

"I don't know, kid." Aunt Amy sniffs at her armpit warily. "Have you met your midget of a mother? I'm pretty sure she only has enough courage for _the_ moment. The Nile isn't just a river in Egypt you know? And Beca is like a pro river boatman, if ya know what I'm sayin'."

As usual, you have no idea.

"What? No, I'm telling you Aunt Amy, I must still exist."

"I dunno kiddo, I guess there's only one way to find out." She gracelessly pushes the door of the time machine open with a thrust of her hips and sweeps a hand towards the exit. "After you, Legacy."

"Aunt Amy?" You question as you cautiously slip past her, relieved to find that the time machine is still located in the same basement as when you entered it. "Why did you go back to the Bella house just after you lost Worlds? All of time at your fingertips and you choose that? And why were you in the kitchen?"

"Okay, don't be mad-"

 _Well that's a good start._

"-but we were all pretty crushed after we lost you know? The only thing that really makes me feel better is a really good sandwich. The night your folks finally decided to do more than eye-shag I made the most glorious twelve inch sub to ever exist. To this very day I've never managed to recreate it's magnificence."

 _What the actual fuck. There's just no way..._

"And well, when Lilly said that I could use her time machine for a hundred bucks and two dead pheasants I just...couldn't resist."

"So...what you're saying here is..." You're speaking in a deadly soft voice. The one that your Mom uses when she's really really upset. "That you might have ruined my entire existence for a...for a _sandwich?"_

Aunt Amy takes one look at the way your eye is starting to spasm before taking off faster than you've ever seen her move.

"Vertical running!"

She doesn't make it very far before stepping in a bucket of offal. It's relieving to know that, whatever reality this might be, at least Aunt Lilly hasn't changed an ounce.

As Aunt Amy scrapes bits of kidney and liver from lord knows what creature off of her shoe you decide that this is punishment enough. For now.

"We need a plan." You say as she mumbles something about 'meat wrestilng' under her breath.

"I thought we were just going to head over to your folks place?"

You suppose that's as good a place to start as any. Although you're mildly (absolutely/wholly/completely) terrified of what you'll find there.

"Okay."

"My car's outside...I think."

Thankfully, Aunt Amy's car is still parked next to the sidewalk outside Aunt Lilly's house and you both breathe a sigh of relief as you slide into familiar territory.

"What in the name of Dingle the Dingo..."

You follow Aunt Amy's eyes that have widened to comical proportions as she stares into the rear view mirror in horror. Quickly whipping around, terrified that there is already someone occupying the back of the car, like in horror movies, you quickly realise that your assailant is in the form of two garish yellow and green car seats.

As far as you know, when you entered the time machine, Aunt Amy and Uncle Bumper were happily childless.

Aunt Amy jumps out of the car and you watch as she struggles to unbuckle each car seat in turn before throwing them both onto a grass verge by the sidewalk and hopping back into the driver's seat.

She points at you threateningly and says "you never saw that", before screeching away.

* * *

This is bad. This is really bad.

You're beginning to have a meltdown. You can feel it.

Because your house. Your _home_. Your beautiful childhood home where you've shared so many happy memories and where you currently live with your perfect, wholesome, loving family...doesn't exist. Instead, you're standing in front of the gates of a charming community play park. Sure, you would have loved to have such an amenity in the nearby vicinity when you were growing up. But this was a bit _too_ nearby.

You know that when your parents bought the house, it had been a serious work in progress. Plenty of land to work with but the house itself had certainly seen better days. They'd spent years and years developing it into what it had become. Adding extensions and a second garage and a conservatory. By the time you were born it had been transformed into a lovely family home, that even the snobbiest of Atlanta families would have been proud to live in. Although maybe not. Some of your Mom's interior decorating choices had been...colourful, to say the least.

But now. Now none of it existed. Not the extensions, or the second garage, or the conservatory. Not the swing on the front deck with the wooden wind chime attached to it that Ma always complained about being too noisy in the night. Not the hanging baskets that you used to water when you were a kid, giggling happily as you sat atop Mom's shoulders, swinging a tiny bright yellow watering can through the air haphazardly. Not the kitchen window ledge that you'd clumsily run into the corner of when you were nine, receiving five stitches and a scar on your forehead that Ma had called "just like Mommy's" as she'd cradled you to her in the car ride back from the hospital.

None of it. It was all gone.

It made sense, you suppose. Ma had told you that their realtor thought they were mad for choosing a first home that was practically falling down. But Mom had fallen in love with it instantly. And your Mom had a real knack for taking something that looks hopeless on the outside and teasing out its full potential. Or so your Aunt Stacie had pointed out with a wink and a cheeky nod towards your other mother.

"Em?" Aunt Amy drags you from your brooding. "You alright there, kid? You look like you're having an aneurysm."

"Oh. No. I'm fine. Totally _fine_. Fine. Fine. Fine. Completely and utterly fine." You accompany each word with some truly wild hand gesticulations. "I'm like, totally having the best day _ever_. My Aunt went back in time to eat a sandwich and ruined my life. But you know, apart from that, everything is just hunky dory."

"I feel like now isn't the best time to tell you that your left hand is disappearing then?"

 _Huh?_

You look down at your hand and gasp loudly. Your hand is still there but you can definitely see the grey paving slabs you're standing on through it. It is the weirdest thing you've ever experienced and that's saying a lot with Aunts like Amy and Lilly.

"Oh my God." Your voice has reached dog whistle pitch. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

Aunt Amy claps a hand over your mouth.

"Sssh Legacy. Don't freak. Let's just get out of here."

She manages to shove you back into the car as your eyes start to burn with the inevitable onslaught of tears that you're almost surprised have taken this long to arrive.

"What am I gonna do, Aunt Amy?!" You practically howl, hot tears spilling over your eyelids and running down your red cheeks. "I'm disappearing! I'm practically _dying._ I'm dead!"

"Well, technically you were never alive...if that helps."

It doesn't.

"Okay, look kid. Don't cry. We're gonna figure this out. I got you into this mess so I'm gonna fix it." Aunt Amy vows and she sounds more serious and sincere than you've ever heard her. It's enough to stem your tears.

You hadn't even realised that she'd been driving, you'd been too busy sobbing and staring at your hands, your right hand now starting to also turn oddly translucent.

"Intel!" She exclaims as she pulls up outside of Aunt Lilly's house. "Have you got your phone?"

Duh. You're eighteen.

You rummage around in your bra for a minute and Aunt Amy raises her eyebrows at you before wiggling them.

"What? It's not my fault the universe doesn't believe women need clothes with pockets." You say rather aggressively as you finally extract your phone.

You pray to all the Gods you can think of as you press the home button and your lock screen flashes up.

 _Oh, thank God._

It's the same picture as it has been for the last few months. A cute picture of your dog, Bertie. If he still exists on your phone that means that he must still exist somewhere. Which means that you still exist somewhere.

You exist.

And then you're crying all over again.

"Bloody hell Legacy, gimme that." The phone is snatched out of your disappearing hands in a flash and you don't know how Aunt Amy knows your passcode but for some reason you're not all that surprised that she does.

The next thing you know, she's holding the phone to her ear and your eyes dry up immediately as you both wait with baited breath. Unfortunately, all you hear is a dial tone telling you that the number is not in use.

"Looks like DJ Mama is a no go." Undeterred, Aunt Amy brings the phone back up to her ear.

" **Hello?"**

Your eyes immediately fill right back up with tears again as your hear your Mom's voice clearly through the speaker.

"Yo yo yo, what's up?"

" **Amy?"** Mom seems surprised.

"Yep, that's me. I know what you're thinking – What could I possibly have done to be bestowed with the honour of hearing my beautiful Australian accent on this fine day?"

Mom laughs. And even though you heard her laugh this morning before she left the house to take Jake to soccer practice it's still the best thing you've ever heard.

" **Yeah. I am a little surprised. I haven't heard from you since Christmas. How are the twins?"**

For a minute you think Aunt Amy is choking on her own tongue.

"Twins?"

" **Yeah, you know. Those two squishy pink things that came out of your vagina."**

You've never seen Aunt Amy look so horrified and you start to giggle uncontrollably.

" **Is that Bumper?"**

You hear your Mom ask and it makes you laugh even harder because Uncle Bumper does have a weirdly high-pitched laugh.

"Er, yeah." Aunt Amy replied, seemingly still stunned by the squishy pink bombshell. "Anyway, how are you doing?"

" **I'm doing well thanks. The divorce is finalised, which is a relief. I think the kids are still struggling though, not seeing their Dad as much."**

Your laughter dies in your throat, only to be replaced with a painful lump the size of Jupiter. Your Mom is, was, married to a man. She has children. Children that aren't you. Children that aren't Jake and Alex. This universe, this reality, it doesn't include you. You feel sick.

"Have you heard from Beca lately?"

You push through your sudden nausea, perking up at the sound of your other mothers name.

Your Mom sighs audibly.

" **I got a Christmas card."** You can tell that she's upset. **"But her PA probably sent that anyway."**

 _Her PA?_

"Her PA?" Aunt Amy reads your mind.

" **Yeah. Being the new David Guetta and all gets you a lot of perks in La La Land apparently."**

 _The new David Guetta? What the hell is this weird universe?_

Apparently Aunt Amy is thinking the same thing because she simply ends the call. You feel bad for your Mom for a minute because she's obviously going through a hard time and seemed really pleased to hear from an old friend.

Then you remember that she's not your Mom. Not here anyway.

Aunt Amy turns to you, looking more serious than you've ever seen her.

"Emily." She says, and you're pretty sure that's the first time she's ever used your full name. "We need to get you back in that time machine."

"Me?!" You exclaim. "Why me? I don't know anything about time travel."

"Oh and I'm clearly the expert." Aunt Amy sends a stormy glare out of the car window at the car seats that are mocking her from the grass verge. "You need to fix this. For both of us."

"You got us into this mess because of a sandwich!" You argue. "Surely _you_ should be the one fixing it."

"Look, Legacy, I would okay? But I can't."

"Why not?"

Aunt Amy sighs before answering.

"Because you can't go back to the same point in time twice according to Dr. Crazy Eyes. So it has to be you. Plus, you're not looking so hot, kid. I can see outside of the window through your head and it's kinda creeping me out."

"Huh?" You gasp as you pull down the visor and nearly throw up when you can see the head rest of the passenger seat through your own head.

"To the time machine?"

"To the time machine."

Aunt Amy stands in front of you inside of the machine twiddling knobs and levers seemingly at random. You hope to God that she knows what she's doing. Your confidence level in her is hovering at around an optimistic three or four out of ten, which you think is actually quite generous given today's events.

"Alrighty then." Aunt Amy pulls one more lever with a flourish and the giant white button starts to glow that alien purple hue again. "All set."

She steps back and reaches up on her tiptoes to rest her hands on your shoulders.

"I don't know how you got so tall." She huffs.

"Mom wanted a tall sperm donor because Ma's so tiny. She was hoping it would even out."

"And instead they were blessed with a baby giraffe." Aunt Amy chuckles and squeezes your shoulders fondly. "Okay, remember the plan?"

"Yep." Your confidence level in your own ability to pull this off is hovering between zero and minus one.

"I'm really sorry about all of this, kiddo." Aunt Amy looks genuinely contrite. "But what a story to tell the Grandbabies huh? This is way better than all of my croc-wrangling tales. You've got the money I gave you?"

"Yeah." You breathe out, a bag of nerves. You hadn't bothered to question why Aunt Amy had been walking around with a wad of cash totalling thousands of dollars when she had slapped it into your hand. "Well I better go."

"Good luck soldier." Aunt Amy gives you one more squeeze before releasing you and stepping out of the time machine altogether and offering you a firm salute as the door swings shut and you're left alone with that damn glowing button.

You do believe that your parents are soulmates. Even in this strange universe where Ma is the new David Guetta and Mom was married to some random dude and has his children. Which is gross by the way. But you'd like to think that even in this weird alternate reality they'd still end up together.

Just without you.

And with that thought you slam your palm down on the control board without a second of hesitation.

You've got a future to save.

* * *

 **Thank you very much for reading :)**


	2. Phase One: Complete

**Welcome to the second installment of OSAS. I hope you enjoyed the first. I know that I've slightly tweaked the timeline in this chapter for my own benefit so I hope that's okay. And I actually really like the canon Emily/Benji thing but I'm afraid they don't work in this AU. Thank you to everyone who followed, favourited and reviewed the last chapter. All very much appreciated.**

 **Shout-outs to KC, Michie, Guesttt, CiCirca1986, Phoebex13 and the two other guests who reviewed the first chapter. Really appreciate you taking the time :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect. Some of the lines in this chapter have been taken directly from the script and I in no way claim to have written these myself.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

Your feet slam into the ground with enough force to knock you on your ass and you groan as you open your eyes and survey your immediate surroundings, feeling decidedly worse for wear and more than a little queasy. Aunt Amy was right, Doctor Who is totally not an accurate portrayal of time travel.

 _Did it work?_

You've landed in a grass clearing that you don't recognise, shaded by a smattering of trees. The sun shining through the gaps in the leaves tells you that it's still daylight, much to your relief. You look down at your hands and let out a long sigh to see that they are beautifully fleshy and opaque.

Scrambling unsteadily to your feet you shuffle over to look beyond the tree cover; praying that Aunt Amy hasn't screwed up again and sent you back to the dark ages where you'll have to live as a nun and eat crumbs and die at twenty five.

Okay...so maybe the drama school you'd gone to every Saturday when you were a child had been a bad idea.

Upon peaking through the trees, you want to let out a loud cheer as you immediately recognise the bustling pathway and the building that has a banner reading 'Welcome Class of 2018' across the top of it. You made it.

You know the building well, having been on several tours around the campus in the past year. Your mothers have always spoken so fondly of Barden University and you've been waiting your whole life to follow in their footsteps and attend their Alma mater. You just didn't expect to be 'attending' so soon.

You spot a group of guys all dressed in matching burgundy blazers entering the building. Considering your mild obsession with acapella and the fact that you've watched every video available of your Moms performing (including that really gross one of your Aunt Aubrey going Little Miss Projectile all over the first five rows), you would recognise the Treblemakers anywhere. You figure Uncle Jesse will be with them and he can direct you as to where your Ma might be. You know, since they're currently dating and all.

Which is just so _freaking_ weird.

You hurriedly follow them into the building but are stopped in your tracks as a student ambassador stuffs a pamphlet into your hands and pushes you towards the main auditorium doors with a faux chirpy 'welcome to Barden!'

You have no choice but to move with the crowd headed into the upper stalls and find a seat amid the new freshman, all of whom are middle-aged in the reality you've just come from.

So _so_ freaking weird.

You've come to the general conclusion that you're just going to have to roll with it. After all, who else gets the chance to travel back in time and go to college with their parents? Because let's be honest, if it weren't for the pressure of saving your ruined future, you'd be so stoked right now. Plus, you'd always desperately wanted to be a Barden Bella. You had cried your eyes out when your Mom had told you that you couldn't be one because they didn't exist anymore.

There's a lady talking on the stage now and by lady you mean totally uncultured swine because she mispronounces Treblemakers. Does she even go here?

You will admit that the Treblemakers performance is awesome. Your Moms, upon your insistence, have taken you to see some live acapella performances. Your Ma had rolled her eyes and snorted derisively through all of them but you had caught her rewatching some of the performances on Youtube when you got back home. She'd taken one look at your raised eyebrows and knowing smirk and just sighed and made you promise not tell your Mom.

Uncle Jesse and Uncle Benji have great voices. You just really really wish that they'd made a different song choice. Because listening to your Uncle, who is currently dating one of your Moms, repeatedly singing about sucking too hard on a lollipop? Yeah. Not cool. Like, at all.

You catch up to him outside, where he's handing out flyers for some kind of party where, apparently, you don't have to wear shoes.

"Great job Trebles, you guys killed it!"

It's the first thing that comes to mind to say to the twenty-one year old version of your middle-aged uncle. And considering he's currently a major barrier to your mothers' happiness and your entire existence you think that you can give yourself a pat on the back.

"Thank you." He says, looking at you with his warm Labrador puppy eyes. To be fair to your Ma, he is pretty cute, if you're into that kind of thing that is. Which, even though she might not necessarily know it right now, Ma definitely isn't. "You like acapella?"

You want to laugh so badly. Because this is just so damn weird. Your Uncle Jess, who just gave you an old acapella greatest hits of all time CD (you like to consider yourself incredibly suave for owning something as retro as a CD player) for Christmas, is genuinely asking you if you like acapella.

"Oh yeah." You say. "I've got my heart set on being a Bella."

You're just about to ask him if could point you in the direction of said Bellas when Uncle Benji appears.

"Benjamin Applebaum at your service." He swoops in to shake your hand in his sweaty palm. "I just have to say, you are so...spirited. I just wanna put you in a box and saw you in half."

Uncle Jesse hastens to explain that this is purely for magic trick purposes. You already know this of course. You don't see much of him because he travels all over the country performing his magic but it's always nice when he and Uncle Trent swing by.

As you're left standing alone, it suddenly dawns on you what a terrible idea this is. You're armed with nothing but the clothes on your back and a wad of cash stuffed in your bag. You don't even have a toothbrush or a place to sleep. You rummage through your bag, desperate to find something that will prove to be useful to an eighteen year old time traveller, but you're coming up empty. At least you still have your emergency tampon.

You need to go and calm yourself down, it's a technique that your Mom taught you. You're both very emotional people. Not necessarily high-strung because you're both capable of handling a lot, but just sometimes, you get overwhelmed. So you head to the nearest Starbucks, noting that your Moms' generation were really into iced drinks, and order yourself a calming herbal tea. You don't drink coffee, unlike your Ma who relies on the stuff to get her through the day, the caffeine goes straight to your head and makes you over-excitable which is not what you need to be right now.

You sit there for a long while, taking gentle sips in between deep breaths. You're sure everything will be fine. In a way you feel kinda badass, going back in time to save the world. Or your world at least. You people-watch as you drink, never truly understanding what everyone says about fashion changing until now. Some of the men have strange haircuts with a shaved back and sides but loads on top and the ones that don't are wearing those wide brimmed caps that only professional basketball players can get away with wearing in your time. Everyone is also wearing _really_ skinny jeans that have _holes_ in them. Like, on purpose. Weird.

You're glad that you decided to wear a simple, timeless outfit this morning. Apparently black jeans are always in fashion.

As dusk begins to fall, you come up with a game plan. First, you need to stop by a convenience store and get your hands on a toothbrush and some other essentials. Then you need to go to the Bella house and a) get them to let you in and b) get them to let you join their ranks.

Simple right?

Yeah. You're bricking it.

As you approach, you notice that the Bella house is completely covered in toilet paper Mom had mentioned something about people not being too appreciative about Aunt Amy showing her vagina to the President and turning Barden University into somewhat of a national disgrace.

Alright. It was time to execute the plan. It was a surprisingly ingenious plan, considering that Aunt Amy had come up with it.

 **Five hours ago/23 years in the future**

" **You're a legacy right? I mean, you're the aca-baby of not one but two women who captained the Bellas to three national championships."**

" **What has this got to do with anything?"**

" **Well, think about it. We weren't allowed to hold auditions the year I accidentally flashed my Betty Lou in front of Obama. The only way they'll let you in is if you're a legacy."**

" **But it's not like I can waltz in there and tell them that I'm their kid."**

" **Give me your phone kid, I need to google some shit."**

Katherine Junk.

The captain of the 1981 Bellas and the creator of the syncopated booty shake. Well according to anyway. You run the details through in your head, praying that you've remembered everything. Your name is Emily Junk. Your mother is Katherine Junk. 1981 Bellas. Five octave vocal range. Married to a dude called Eric. So apparently you have Dad now, which is new.

This could work. This plan could actually work. Provided that no one decides to look up whether Katherine Junk actually has a daughter named Emily, which she most probably doesn't, considering that you've been sent back in time due to your Aunt inadvertently killing you for a sandwich, the universe doesn't really seem to be that on your side today.

You take a deep breath as you stand on the doorstep before reaching over to ring the bell. You wonder who is going to answer the door and secretly hope that it isn't one of your Moms. You don't feel ready to face them yet. Although you're not sure you'll ever be ready.

The door swings open and you almost laugh because of course Aunt Amy is standing there, holding her breasts for some reason, and staring at you as though she's not the very reason you're here. She doesn't really look much different. A little slimmer perhaps but her face remains remarkably similar. Apparently Australians don't age.

"Sorry my boobs are all crazy, I was just jumping." And of course that's the first thing she says to a complete 'stranger'.

"I, um, a guy called Jesse told me where the Bella house was." You lie and give yourself a mental high five for playing it so cool. "I've heard you're not holding auditions this year but I was hoping for the chance to sing for you."

"Nope, sorry can't help you, we're not allowed to take anyone else new."

Aunt Amy starts to close the door and you'll be damned if you let her screw anything else up for you today.

"No, no. Wait! I'm a Junk!" You call desperately, throwing out a gangly arm to stop the door from closing completely.

Aunt Amy has apparently wandered off because the next thing you know Auntie Rose is standing in the doorway staring at you oddly.

"What did you say about your junk?"

Yeah, this was going to be anything but simple. But at least she lets you in.

You're standing awkwardly by the living room window as Aunt Amy and Auntie Rose gather the rest of the Bellas from their various dwellings. And when you say 'gather' you mainly mean Aunt Amy screaming 'Aca-bitches assemble!' up the stairs.

Your redheaded mother is the first to come bounding down them and your breath catches in your throat. You've seen pictures of her at this age but things are so different in animation. You've got to hand it to her, she's aged really well. She dyes her hair now and the smile lines around her eyes and mouth are far more defined but she keeps herself as fit as a fiddle and you've heard some of your male friends refer to her as a MILF. Which, gross. But twenty-four year old Chloe Mitchell-Beale, (or just Beale at the moment you suppose), is totally gorgeous. No offence to your Ma or anything, but even though you're far more like her in personality, you kind of wish you shared some of your Mom's biological genes. But then with how dark your eyes are and how tall you are, you probably take after your sperm donor in terms of looks, which would be just your luck.

Not that it matters that much anyway. All your life, people had been telling you how much you take after one mother or the other in almost everything that you do. You get overexciteable like Mom, or you have the tendency to be a little sulky like Ma, or you tear up when you're really angry like Mom does and you have a thing for flat pack furniture like Ma pretends she doesn't (although her eyes light up just like yours do when you go past an IKEA). One thing is for sure, you definitely inherited your Ma's deformed baby toes, also just your luck.

You realise that you've been silent for quite a while and all the Bellas except for one are now downstairs. You're simultaneously disappointed and relieved that your Ma doesn't seem to be home. Your Mom is standing nearest to you, just looking at you questioningly. And it's so weird to see the person whose vagina you came out of looking at you like she's never seen you before.

"I'm Emily...Junk." You introduce yourself awkwardly. Because of all the old Bellas Aunt Amy could have gone for she just had to go for the one with the most ridiculous surname. She'd claimed that it made sense mathematically but you're pretty sure she was just messing with you, as usual. "I know it's weird, it's my Mom's last name. My Dad's last name is Hard-on soo..."

None of them laugh. They just stare at you like you're crazy.

 _Tough crowd._

"I'm a legacy. My Mom was a Bella."

"Your mother is Katherine Junk?!"

Thank God for your Mom. When it comes to the Bellas and acapella in general, she's like Wikipedia.

"Who?" Aunt Stacie, clearly less so.

"Only the top bitch of the 1981 Bellas. She pioneered the syncopated booty shake and word is she has a five octave vocal range." Turns out your Mom knows your fake Mom better than you do.

"Still does." You tell her, as she stares at you with blue-eyed excitement. People still ask you if your Mom wears coloured contact lenses, not quite believing that their shade of blue is natural. "You do not wanna hear that woman doin' it with my Dad."

You regret it as soon as you say it because everyone is giving you that weird look again.

"What an odd thing to say."

Aunt Amy is right. Apparently it's far easier to talk about your fake parents' sex lives than your real parents'. Because, ew. You never want to talk about that time you walked in on them for as long as you live. Which might not be very long at all considering your current situation.

"True. If a legacy wants to audition, we have to let her." Your Mom says and you want to hug her. "Okay, show us what you got."

Turns out you hadn't thought this far ahead. Of course they weren't just going to let you be a Bella without conducting some kind of audition first. Considering you actually had to be able to sing to be part of an acapella group, funnily enough.

The only problem is you can't think of any songs from the correct era. You know some Taylor Swift but you're not sure if her 1989 album has come out yet and you're definitely not going to start singing 'Love Story'. You desperately try to think of some of the songs that Aunt Aubrey is always listening to, but you can only think of that horrible Ace of Base song the Bellas used to sing for every performance and there's no way you're singing that. There's only one song you can think of all the lyrics to due to the fact that you've been writing and rewriting them constantly for the past four years. You like to think of yourself as somewhat of a songwriter, you've got dozens of notebooks stuffed full of ideas and random verses at home. You're not a secretive person in general, people always say you wear your heart on your sleeve, but you've always kept your songs very close to your chest. Your Moms know about your writing of course, but they don't push you to share it with them, something you've always been very grateful for. Plus, Ma always answers any questions you have about producing music and Mom is always on hand with her trusty rhyming dictionary if you're ever in need of a particularly troublesome lyric.

"Right now? Right here? Right here, right now." You swing your arms back and forth, still trying to muster up the words to a first verse of a pre-2015 song that isn't from Titanic or by Whitney Houston. Because you're not a bad singer but you don't want to embarrass yourself.

 _Screw it._

"I'd like to perform an original song that I've been working on." You've never sung this song in front of anyone but your own reflection before and you're so nervous you might actually pass out. You had been planning to perform for the first time at your parents' twentieth wedding anniversary party at the end of this summer. You thought it would be fitting considering it was inspired by and written for them. But you suppose none of that matters now. Considering you're going to be singing it to your Mom now before you've even been born. "I'm not quite finished with it yet...so let's not be dicks about it."

They all look shocked and you realise that might have been a little harsh. But you've been working on this particular song for so long and it means so much to you that you don't know what you'd do if they told you it was horrible. But it's not like you really have much of choice now, with them all staring at you expectantly.

So you sing. Your voice is a bit cracked in places and you accidentally start to air jam to the instrumental bit like a complete dork but you're pretty sure that it was a decent performance. It doesn't mean that when you're finished you're not as nervous as you've ever been in your life though.

They're all blinking at you, like a group of expressionless owls, and you have no idea what they're thinking.

"Would you excuse us for just one second." Mom looks at you imploringly and her left eye closes in an absent-minded wink that's so familiar, you feel instantaneously homesick.

They huddle together around the coffee table and start whispering loudly. You just stand there and pretend like you can't hear every word.

"She's pretty good, can we take her?" You're a bit stung by the words, seeing as your Mom would never describe you as 'pretty good' at anything. In typical motherly style, she's always been one to tell you that you're absolutely brilliant and can do anything you set your mind to. Ma's a bit more of a realist with you. Like the time you really wanted to join roller derby she told you that it was a terrible idea and that you would probably die. A trip to the hospital a week later with a broken wrist and a black eye proved she hadn't been entirely wrong. You've long since decided that your parents different approaches have probably been equally important to your development as a well rounded, perfect individual.

"What do you expect us to say? She's standing right there."

You give a small, nervous wave, still pretending you're not listening to every word they say, feeling a little bit of gratitude towards Aunt Amy for the first time in the last twelve hours.

"Definitely not a soloist."

And that gratitude lasted approximately two seconds.

"Technically she came to us so we're not breaking any rules." Mom says and you cross your fingers behind your back, praying silently. Because really, if they don't let you in, you don't know what you're going to do.

"It's the perfect loophole." Aunt Stacie agrees.

"You know, it's always good to have an extra body, just in case one of us gets kidnapped for ransom, is thrown into a shipping container and is made to eat only leaves and gas receipts." You've only met Aunt Flo once (Mom had insisted on basically every family friend being referred to as either an Aunt or an Uncle because that's how it was when she was a child. Although they do have a couple of non-binary friends who you just call AJ and Rowan), because she lives in Toronto with her husband and their seven children.

"I agree. We need new blood." Mom says and you squeeze your fingers tighter.

"I don't think we should decide anything without Beca." Auntie Rose says and your ears automatically prick up at the mention of your Ma's name.

Her suggestion is ignored and Aunt Lilly says something afterwards that you can't hear from your vantage point but it's accompanied by a scary tongue wiggle that makes everyone, as usual, cock a weirded out eyebrow at her.

"Did anyone else think it was creepy that she never really opened her eyes the whole time?"

You frown at Aunt Stacie. You'd like to see her travel back from the future and sing her precious song that she'd spent hour upon hour crafting in front of her mother and several Aunts who didn't even know she was their daughter/niece and keep her eyes open the whole time.

"Again we're talking about her and she's right there." You've learned your lesson about ever feeling grateful towards Aunt Amy the last time and wait for her inevitably offensive follow-up. "Although if we're gonna talk negatives let's start with the giraffe legs."

 _Called it._

You're not really offended by that though. It's actually quite nice, in a familiar kind of way and that homesick feeling is back. Aunt Amy has been comparing you to a baby giraffe since you hit puberty. For your fifteenth birthday she'd proudly presented you with a large wooden giraffe sculpture, that still stands in the corner of your bedroom back home. Wherever home may be.

"Okay, let's take a vote on it. Anyone who wants her in sing G-sharp, anyone who doesn't, sing an E-flat."

You should laugh at how incredibly ridiculous this situation is but you don't. Instead, you just feel like you might throw up.

"One. Two."

You're pretty sure that sounded like a majority G-sharp but there's a weird rushing sound in your ears due to your rapidly beating heart, so you can't be entirely sure. Mom and Auntie Rose are suddenly standing directly in front of you as the others gather around.

"I-I like you shirt." You tell Auntie Rose just to break the silence but she just cocks an intimidating eyebrow. She's clearly softened as she's aged, although two weeks ago she was telling you all about embracing your bicurious urges when you go to college. Which you're pretty sure is equal parts inappropriate and offensive.

You turn away from her and look at your Mom. She pauses for just a fraction long enough for you to have a heart attack before half-singing:

"Welcome to the Bellas!"

 _Oh, thank all of the aca-gods._

"O-M-Aca-G!"

You don't even realise that you're doing a ridiculous victory dance until Auntie Rose is grabbing your arms and forcing them down by your sides muttering "stop it." and "just no" under her breath.

 _Oops._

But you don't really care. You've done it! You're a Barden Bella!

Phase one is complete.

As you follow the rest of the Bellas out of the house to the hood night party at the Treble house you notice that your Mom is carrying a yellow cup with her. You've seen it around the house before, although she very rarely uses it, but you had no idea it was almost twenty five years old. For a plastic cup, that's kinda gross. You also wonder why she's taking it with her to a party, but then again your mother has always been the whimsical, forgetful type, chances are she forgot she was even holding it when she left the house.

"Wow. My first college party." You walk into the Treble's backyard, Aunt Amy ambling along beside you.

"Yeah, well, this isn't just any college party, this is acapella only." She whispers to you. So get prepared to meet a lot of sexually confused men."

She slips away just as Uncle Benji appears.

"U..Benji...right?" You almost slip up but he doesn't seem to notice as he starts making some very strange noises that you've only heard in The Sims 10.

"I'm sorry, those aren't words." He garbles out and you wonder why he's being so strange. Uncle Benji has always been an oddball, but this is beyond the pale. "The movies?"

 _The movies? What the hell? Wait...Is he...?_

"Are you asking me out?!"

He nods.

 _Oh my God. Oh my actual God. My gay uncle is asking me out. This is so wrong._

You have no idea what to say so you try to give him a polite smile and not seem like you're too horrified by the thought.

"Um, it's my first day, wasn't planning on rushing into anything..."

There's a bang in front of you and a cloud of smoke forms. You can still see Uncle Benji kneeling behind it (he's seriously improved that trick in the last twenty years) but you quickly hurry away towards the drinks table anyway. Your gay uncle just asked you out, you definitely deserve a drink.

You're not quite expecting to run into your Ma as soon as you get there so the, "Hi!" that bursts from your lungs with unbridled excitement might be a bit much.

"Hi."

She looks at you with that unfamiliar expression of not having any idea who you are. And it still hurts just as much as when your Mom had looked at you that way. Your Ma is still absolutely tiny, but then you shouldn't be surprised by this. You had a massive growth spurt when you were ten so it's been eight years since you were shorter than her. You realise that you probably need to say something to qualify your overexcitement.

"I'm so excited to meet the woman who single-handedly created the Bella sound!" You say enthusiastically. Because it's not like you can say "I'm so excited to meet the woman who single-handedly gave me twenty three chromosomes of genetic material!"

"Ohh." Realisation clocks on her face. "Yeah, hi. Chloe texted me we added a legacy. I didn't even know that was a thing."

You can't help but grin when she says your Mom's name. It's not said with quite the same familiar intimacy as it will be in a few years time but it's comforting nonetheless.

"Well, I'm just gonna..." She points awkwardly to where your Mom and the rest of the Bellas are dancing by the pool and shuffles away. You pick up a red cup and look around furtively before pouring yourself a drink. You know it's ridiculous but you still can't help but feel guilty about drinking in front of your Moms. You decide that you'll just have the one. You need to keep up your laser focus if you're going to pull off this plan anyway.

The party is in full swing and you watch from across the pool as your parents dance together. Ever since your Ma arrived you've only seen her talking to Uncle Jesse once, due to the fact that she's been practically glued to your Mom's side, dancing and grinding with Mom pulling her in for the occasional one armed hug. Your Ma has to be the most oblivious person you've ever met.

It's weird seeing your parents so intoxicated and as you walk the very short distance back from Treble house, sans Aunt Amy and Aunt Stacie, you watch as Ma wraps the towel she had ordered Uncle Jesse to get for your Mom after she had jumped in the pool, tighter around Mom's shivering frame and rubs lightly at her shoulders. You kind of want to squeal and clap your hands but you don't want to interrupt their moment, so you walk a few paces behind, squealing internally instead as Mom wraps her arm around Ma's waist to steady herself and pulls her closer until Ma's head is resting on her towel-clad shoulder.

And it's just so obvious to you. I suppose foresight helps with that, but still, it's so _so_ obvious. They're just meant to be.

You're stumbling through the doorway of the Bella house before you realise that you don't technically live here and that maybe they're all expecting you to go back to your own dorm that you don't actually have.

But you needn't have worried because a second later your Ma leans your Mom against the kitchen counter with a whispered "stay there, Chlo." and turns to you.

"C'mon." She jerks her head towards the living room and you follow her silently. "It's too late for you to walk back to your dorm, you can crash here tonight." She hands you a couple of fluffy blankets and nods towards the comfortable looking couch.

"Thanks." You smile at her, feeling like you might cry.

"G'night Legacy." She gives you half a smile and turns back to the kitchen. As you slip off your shoes and lie down on the couch, arranging the blankets over yourself until you're comfortably snug, you hear a crash from the kitchen followed by a "Jesus, Chloe, I thought I told you stay put!"

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the few tears that escape from beneath your closed eyelids and are absorbed into the pillow beneath your head.

You fall asleep to the soothing sound of your parents whispering quietly to each other in the kitchen.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading :)**


	3. Busted

**Sorry for the delay. Allergic reaction to mosquito bite problems followed by lost laptop charger. Never leave your laptop charger at a stranger's house folks.**

 **Thank you to KC, Phoebex13 and the two guests who gave reviews for the last chapter. Mucho appreciated.**

 **And to answer your question, Emily is Beca's biological child (as in made from Beca's egg) but Chloe carried her and gave birth to her. Science blows my mind. So yes, Chloe is Mom and Beca is Ma. Thank you for your question and sorry for the confusion.**

 **As ever, thank you very much for reading and let me know what you think if you have a quick minute.**

 **Cheers.**

* * *

Your slumber is rudely interrupted early the next morning when the front door slams and you cock open a tired eye just in time to see Aunt Amy stumbling through the doorway, still dressed in the same clothes from the party the night before.

She sees you watching her as she gracelessly pulls her shoes off and flings them haphazardly towards the incredibly overcrowded shoe rack, missing by at least a couple of yards.

"I sleepwalk." She offers as means of explanation and shrugs innocently before heading for the staircase. You feel yourself slowly drifting back to sleep.

The next time you wake up the first thing you see is your Mom's face alarmingly close to yours, her blue eyes blinking at you inquisitively like some kind of woodland creature that's accidentally wandered into the house.

"Mom!" You yell, before realising your mistake and blushing a deep shade of red and stuttering to try and fix it. "I-I mean, Chloe.."

Your Mom just giggles, incredibly amused by your mistake. She doesn't seem to be suffering the affects of her alcohol fueled night whatsoever, but then again you've heard your Ma frequently express her disdain at Mom's seeming immunity to hangovers.

"How much did you have to drink last night, Em?" The easy way the nickname your Mom has always called you slips from her tongue, is genuinely the best thing you've ever heard. And when she absent-mindedly reaches over to brush a lock of hair out of your eyes, you just want to burst into tears. God, you're such a Mommy's girl.

"Not much." You tell her, that feeling of guilt washing over you again. "I swear."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter if you drink, just be safe. The good thing about being in the Bellas is that you'll always have someone to look out for you." Mom tells you and it's advice you've heard before, when she'd sat you down when you were sixteen and given you a rather comprehensive talk about 'growing up'. You'd had variations of the birds and the bees talk before of course (you don't think your parents would have let Aunt Stacie take you for ice cream if they had known), but this was by the far the most explicit and embarrassing. She didn't pull any punches, covering all the bases until you were the colour of a London double decker and your Ma, who had been forced to 'participate' (her only participation being the odd "Chloe!" when Mom was particularly detailed) had buried her face in her hands and let out a tortured ' _oh my God_.' "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, thanks." You smile at her and sit up, the blankets falling into your lap. "Although Au-Amy came crashing through the front door at about six in the morning claiming to have been 'sleepwalking' in her party clothes from last night."

"Oh really?" Your Mom grins and shakes her head. "We have a bet going about when Amy's going to realise she's totes in love with Bumper if you want in. You can ask Cynthia Rose about it."

You wonder if the others have a similar bet going about her and Ma.

"Chloe?" It's so against your nature to call her by her first name that it takes you a few moments of courage to do so. She looks at you expectantly. "Erm, I was just wondering if maybe you had a spare bed or something for me here at the Bella house? It's just-" You don't have anywhere to stay and will have to live in the street/a nearby motel if you can't stay here. "-my room mate is a nightmare and I don't want to miss out on anything being the only one not living in the house."

"Of course, Em." There she goes with that nickname again, making you want to throw yourself into her arms and never let go, which would definitely be weird. "We've got a spare bed, the only thing is..." She trails off, looking a little uneasy. "The only person who has a room big enough and doesn't have a roommate is Lilly."

 _Oh Lordy._

"But sometimes she disappears at night. No one really knows where she goes but I'm sure she'll be fine with you rooming with her." Mom claps her hands together in that way she does when she's excited about a new prospect. "This is gonna be great, all the Bella's living in the same house. We're gonna have so much fun. Plus, it will help you get used to it when you live here next year."

You cringe. Because you're pretty sure next year this house becomes property of the Quidditch Club, who apparently win the state finals at the end of this year and become the new Big Name On Campus. Or so your Ma told you when you were eight and had begged her to read you the Harry Potter series. She had been forced to read them to you in secret, sitting on the tiny chairs belonging to your tea party set in the playhouse at the back of the garden, so that your Mom wouldn't find out. Your Mom knew of course, nothing got past her that easily, but she made a deal with you that if you got your Ma to wear a princess crown whilst she read to you that you could finish the series. The next week you had spotted your Mom snapping several pictures of you and Ma, princess crown sitting jauntily atop her head, through the playhouse window.

"Yeah. Thanks Chloe."

"What are you up to today?"

The fact that it's a Saturday and that you don't even go to this university or live in this reality means that you basically have no plans. Although, you do need to go shopping considering the only pair of underwear you currently have access to is the pair on your body. Which is mega gross.

"Well, I was going to go shopping. But I don't really know where the best place to go is..."

You wonder if she'll take the bait. You know that your Mom loves shopping, it's one of your favourite things to do together. Your Ma used to come with you occasionally but once you became a teenager and started taking an interest in buying your own clothes and experimenting with fashion, whenever your Mom would ask if she wanted to join them Ma would suddenly claim to be incredibly busy.

"Oooh, can I come?" Your Mom grins at you eagerly. "I've been meaning to get some clothes to add to my autumnal collection. Earth tones look great on me. It's the hair."

"Yeah, sure, that would be great actually. I could use someone to help find my way around." This is, of course, a massive lie. You're pretty sure that you and your Mom have been to the majority of malls in Georgia. But you can't help grinning at her, pleased that you still know her well. "Do you think I could grab a shower?"

"Of course. There's only two bathrooms, so I'd grab one now before the others start to get up. Towels are in the cupboard on the first landing, help yourself. There should be some Herbal Essences shampoo and body wash stuff of mine in the first floor bathroom. Feel free to borrow it. I'll leave a change of clothes for you outside the door so we can head straight out. Something of Stacie's might fit you." Your Mom removes the blankets from your lap and starts to fold them before placing them on the back of the couch. "I'll go and see if anyone else is game for a trip to the mall."

With that, she squeezes your shoulder and skips off up the stairs. You smile to yourself as you trudge up after her, grabbing a towel from the cupboard and locking the bathroom door behind you. Your Mom is awesome.

But your Mom is not an awesome driver. At least she wasn't in her mid-twenties. She's improved somewhat over the years but you still feel a lot more comfortable when your Ma drives, even though she can barely see over the steering wheel.

It's not that your Mom couldn't be a good driver if she wanted to be. She just gets easily distracted. By the people in the car, by people and animals and houses outside of the window, by birds in the sky and funny shaped clouds...so basically everything. Which means she doesn't end up focusing on the road nearly as much as she should.

Somehow she's never had an accident or gotten any tickets. But you suspect that the no ticket thing has more to do with her ability to smile and charm her way out of any situation than anything else. Thankfully, your Ma drives most of the time at home. Especially if they have to go anywhere on the highway. Ma refuses to set foot in a car with your Mom driving on a highway but you've never found out exactly why. You're pretty sure that it has something to do with a roadtrip to Portland to see your Gran before you were born.

Apparently, your Ma had sat Mom down just after you were born and given her a serious talk about road safety whilst transporting precious cargo such as an infant, and since then she's gotten a lot better at keeping her eyes on the road, finally realising that it was probably a good idea.

But clearly your Mom had no such qualms at the age of twenty-four. Ashley and Jessica look equally as terrified as you but Aunt Stacie, who's sitting in the front seat filing her nails, hasn't seemed to notice that your Mom keeps swerving onto the wrong side of the road every time she turns to talk to her.

"What are you thinking of getting at the mall today, Em?"

Your Mom's eyes are on yours in her rear-view mirror and you hurry to answer her as quickly as possible so that she'll look back at the road.

"Erm, just clothes mainly. It was my birthday recently and my Mom gave me some money to get a whole new wardrobe." You lie hastily. Clothes are a number one priority right now. You can pick up anything else you might need at a later date.

"A whole new wardrobe?" Aunt Stacie turns to look at you, eyes squinted with envy. "Man, Mama Junk must be loaded."

You just shrug awkwardly because you have no idea whether Katherine Junk is wealthy or not, considering that you've never met the woman in your life.

"This is gonna be aca-awesome." Mom claps her hand together excitedly, taking both hands off the wheel whilst she's supposed to be parking and you see Ashley seize Jessica's hand in fear. You're so glad that cars park themselves in the future.

Four hours later and you're completely exhausted. Your feet hurt, you're carrying more bags than you can cope with and you've tried on so many weird clothes, in so many different colours and strange styles that you can't even see straight.

And still, your mother is dragging you by the hand towards yet another store, claiming that you still don't own the perfect patterned sleeveless top. Which apparently, is _the_ fashion essential of fall 2015. You're pretty sure that's she's just trying to dress you in clothes that she likes so that she can borrow them.

Ashley and Jessica had disappeared over an hour and a half ago and you'd lost Aunt Stacie to the hot sales attendant in Hollister. You presume she's still there, batting her eyelashes and suggestively touching his forearm to her heart's (or libido's) content.

"Chloe, Chloe!" You tug at her arm, trying to slow her down. You're getting more and more used to using her first name as the day has gone on. It's still weird as all hell, but at least you aren't accidentally sputtering 'Mo-Chloe' like a complete idiot all the time, because you were worried that she was definitely going to start to notice.

"Just a few more stores, Em." Your Mom throws at you over her shoulder. Jesus Christ, your Mom was a shopping pro in college. You're glad she's slowed up a bit since then. Probably your Ma's doing, considering she can't do more than half an hour of being dragged around a mall before demanding a coffee and pretzel break.

"Do you think we could just stop for a break?" You huff out, feeling more than a little worse for wear. You feel like you deserve a rest, considering the amount of travelling you did yesterday. "I'm exhausted."

Your Mom takes pity on you, probably because she can see the desperation in your eyes. That and the fact that your cheeks are red and you're sweating profusely.

"Sure we can. I'm sorry, I got a little bit over-excited when you said you needed a full wardrobe."

"Do you want to be a personal shopper or something?"

You're joking of course, but your Mom goes quiet for a minute, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth like she does when she's feeling anxious and insecure about something. You know you've hit a nerve.

"I don't really know what I want to be." She murmurs quietly, heading towards a Starbucks without another word.

It's odd, seeing her be so unsure of herself. Your Mom was born to be a lot of things and a teacher is definitely one of them. She loves her job and she's incredibly good at it. You know for a fact that there are dozens of kids out there whose lives have been changed for the better just from walking into her classroom. It's comforting in a way, knowing that your Mom wasn't always aware of her calling. You haven't figured yours out yet either. It's nice to know that there isn't a time limit, that you don't have to have an answer for all the prying adults who expect you to have your whole 'career path' mapped out at the age of eighteen. That you can still retake your final year of college twice and not once have it define you.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around her forearm, squeezing it gently as she turns to look at you, eyes still swimming with self-deprecation and uncertainty. It doesn't suit her one bit. And it makes you want to throw yourself into the arms of the confident mother you know and tell her how proud you are of everything she's achieved, now that you can see exactly how much she struggled to achieve it written all over the face of the younger version of her standing in front of you.

"Don't worry." You tell her. "There's no rush. You've got plenty of time to figure it all out."

You will her to believe you but she just gives you a small, tight-lipped smile, shrugs in a manner that suggests that she absolutely does not believe you and says:

"Come on, let's get a coffee. My treat."

Doctor Who was accurate about one thing. Time travel can be kind of heartbreaking.

* * *

Your first night as an official member of the Bella household passes without incident. Aunt Lilly agreed to let you room with her. Or at least you think she agreed because she nodded and said something about removing the experiment from the spare bed. You'd thought it best not to ask any questions but when you had entered the room that evening to make the bed and find a home for your many purchases it had been suspiciously bare and there was a strong smell of disinfectant lingering in the air.

Aside from this, you're in decidedly high spirits. Maybe it's because you're wearing fresh underwear and a pair of fleecy lounge pants that feel like your legs are encased in clouds. Or it could be because you practically spent the whole day with your Mom and she seems to like you which means she likes you as a person and not just because she had to like you because you're her daughter. Which is pretty damn cool if you say so yourself and you're feeling kind of smug right about now.

You're currently curled up on a beanbag on the floor thoroughly enjoying a Bella movie night. The picture is really grainy but it turns out that Jude Law was kinda cute when he was young and actually had hair.

 _Who knew?_

Everybody is there apart from one rather (in your opinion) notable exception. You haven't seen your Ma all day but you're pretty sure you might be the only person in the room who knows where she is. You've heard all about her internship at Residual Heat. She brings it up every time she's in the mood to give you an inspiring speech about 'hard work and determination' and 'climbing the ladder'. She likes to think she's the cool parent (if cool means being able to beat your brothers at MarioKart 4D), but sometimes she's such a mom.

The front door clatters open and the subject of your thoughts shuffles through the doorway, kicks off her boots and collapses onto the couch next to your Mom, barely giving Aunt Stacie enough time to make space for her. Your Ma looks totally wiped as she cracks open a tired eye and surveys the TV screen.

"Seriously? _The Holiday_? Again, Chlo?"

"It's a classic!" Your Mom shoots her a light-hearted glare.

"So is _Saw_."

"And that is why you don't get a vote on movie night."

"I thought this was a democracy?"

"It's an aca-ocracy." Your Mom tells her smugly. "And as the longest standing member, what I say goes. I'm like Simon Cowell on Xfactor."

"Alright, Aubrey."

"Rude!"

"I'm telling her you were insulted by that."

"Don't you..."

"Can it you two." Aunt Amy almost throws a piece of popcorn at them but thinks better of it and pops it into her mouth instead. "I can't focus on all the man candy with you two dirty talking in the corner."

"We weren't -" Your Ma starts to deny her accusation but Aunt Amy just rolls her eyes and shushes her again. You keep pretending to watch the movie but covertly continue to spy on your parents out of the corner of your eye. Your beanbag is situated in the perfect position, just to the right of the sofa arm that your Mom is leaning against.

"Where were you this evening?" You're close enough to hear your Mom ask with what you know is fake nonchalance.

"Jesse's." Your Ma lies with a shrug and you can almost feel your Mom tense up a little, the hand that's lying on the arm of the couch curling into a brief fist before relaxing again.

"Oh. Okay."

You think she does a passable job at hiding her jealousy, although you suspect that it would still be obvious to anyone who isn't as oblivious as your Ma. Which is, you know, probably ninety nine per cent of the world's population.

You sigh quietly to yourself.

 _Why do I have the feeling that this is going to be more than a little frustrating?_

You're so exhausted from that mornings shopping trip that getting to sleep is easier than expected, even with the weird smell in your room and the weird lump under your mattress that turned out to be some kind of animal bone. You hope it was just an animal bone.

You have no idea where your Aunt Lilly is, which is slightly unnerving, but you find yourself drifting into a peaceful sleep regardless.

That is until you awake an indeterminate amount of time later to find her face literal centimetres from yours.

 _HOLY MOTHER OF..._

She cuts your terrified scream short with a hand slapped deftly across your mouth and leans in close enough to be audible.

"I know where you came from."

 _Oh shit._

"Follow me."

You've know Aunt Lilly your whole life. And yes, she's always been more than a little strange and creepy but you're also pretty confident that she would never hurt you. So you follow her out into the hallway and down the stairs until you're standing outside a door you haven't seen before.

She eases the door open and descends down the stairs into the darkness. You're not going to lie, you're totally shitting yourself right about now. You are one hundred per cent not up for seeing any dead bodies today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that.

Maybe Tuesday. When you've had some time to prepare.

" _Lilly_." You hiss into the pitch black. "Do you think we can turn on a light or something?"

A dim light flickers on at your behest and you let out a small scream when Aunt Lilly's face is inches from yours yet again. What is it with people doing that today? You take a few hasty steps back.

"You smell."

"Uh, thanks."

You definitely don't by the way. You bought enough deodorant today to keep a small town smelling fresh for at least a year.

"You smell like the future."

 _Oh._

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You try and bluff and then because you simply can't help but ask; "you can _smell_ the future?"

"It's all part of the design."

Aunt Lilly spins on her heel and grabs a sheet that you now notice is concealing half of the room from view. She gives it a swift tug and it billows to the floor.

You let out a gasp.

Because behind the sheet stands a far less polished, but still instantly recognisable translucent purple, egg-shaped structure.

 _Well I'll be damned._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**


	4. What Mama doesn't know

**Hi there folks. I am back from a short excursion to Scandinavia and am now anticipating having some more time to dedicate to this story. Don't a hundred per cent hold me to that though.**

 **Thank you as ever to those who reviewed the last chapter: xcombixgirlx, Phoebex13, KC, Moofoo195, BecaBeale, KayMitchell, anonymous1397 and the three guest reviewers. Most kind of you.**

 **Thank you very much for reading and please feel free to comment away at your leisure.**

 **Cheers.**

* * *

Everything you've ever seen or read suggests that if anyone from the past finds out you are from the future you're basically screwed. And not just a little bit screwed. Like, a lot bit screwed. Like burst into flames, struck by lightening, everyone you know tries to murder you in your sleep type screwed.

Thus far that has yet to happen. So fingers crossed.

In fact, Aunt Lilly knowing about you has been kind of a relief. There's something very isolating about being around a group of people you know and love so much and them not having any idea who you are or that they're supposed to love you back. You're almost desperate for your Moms to give you that warm 'you mean everything to me and I would jump in front of an oncoming train for you' look that's reserved just for you, your siblings and each other.

You've barely seen your Ma at all over the last few days and anytime she is present she hardly even glances your way. It's not surprising, you suppose, considering your Ma's weariness of newcomers. That and the fact that every time you see her, you get far too overexcited and end up making a total fool of yourself in front of her.

Like yesterday when she came downstairs whilst you were eating breakfast and asked you to pass her the coffee pot...

" _Hey, can you pass me some coffee, dude?"_

 _The familiar voice from behind you makes you whip around so quickly that the spoonful of cereal you'd just put in your mouth slides to the back of your throat and you begin to silently choke, eyes bulging as your Ma stands there, an empty mug in her hand, staring at you like you're the weirdest little creature she's ever laid eyes upon._

 _To be fair, she stares at you like that in the future sometimes too._

" _You okay there?"_

 _You force the soggy mass of fruit loops down your throat. It's a shame they got taken out of production before you were born due to that weird, toxic dye they found in them, because they're freaking delicious. Veggie Loops just never took off. Who puts beetroot in cereal?_

" _Who? Me? Yep, totes fine. Fine, fine, fine. Finer than Lucas Garcia on that motorbike in Fatal Surrender."_

 _Are you rambling?_

 _Oops._

" _Erm, I'm assuming that's fine then?" She shrugs at you. "I don't do movies so I have no idea who that motorbike dude is."_

 _Double oops._

 _You're really glad your Ma doesn't do movies because you're pretty sure that Lucas Garcia is only a few years older than you so he's either still in diapers or hasn't been born yet._

 _This time travel business is so complicated._

" _Can I get that coffee then?"_

" _Oh. Right."_

 _You're not going to lie, you're kind of a klutz, so things like using sharp implements and pouring hot beverages have never been your strong suit. So it's not exactly surprising when you pour most of the hot coffee on the back of her hand instead of in the cup she holds out for you._

 _It is however, no less humiliating. You really want her to like you..._

" _Jesus Christ Legacy!" She shakes her hand and quickly dashes over to the sink to run her hand under the tap._

" _Oh my God, I'm so sorry M-Beca!"_

 _She scowls at you as she dabs at the back of her hand with some paper towel before shaking her head and rounding the island to grab her bag from where she left it by your chair._

" _I think I'm just gonna drop by the Starbucks on my way." She tells you, heading for the door. "Before you actually kill me. See ya later, kid."_

So yeah. That could have gone better.

You've made some good headway with your redheaded mother though. She's been pretty stressed out lately and can't stop talking about preparing for Worlds but she's taken you under her wing like you're a little orphaned duckling that just so happened to wander into the house. There's something so maternal in the way that she treats you that you almost wonder whether some kind of subconscious part of her knows who you are.

When you suggested this to Aunt Lilly however, she just rolled her eyes and made a tutting noise at you.

Considering that you haven't been struck by lightening yet, you are tentatively glad that she knows. You had been hoping that she'd show some kind of sympathy for how difficult this is for you but she seems mainly interested in quizzing you about what exactly you know about her future time machine and largely frustrated when you know next to nothing.

She'd made you sketch as much of it as you could remember. You're really not very artistic though; that's more your Ma's thing. So when you handed her back your drawing she had squinted at it for a moment, arched an eyebrow and tutted again.

It's just typical that the most audible sound that woman makes is tutting. You're already tired of hearing it so frequently.

She hadn't been surprised at all to learn that you're the daughter of her co-captains. She'd told you that she'd figured as much considering that you apparently stare at them every time they're in the vicinity with the same longing that she stares at open flames. Which is, you know, vaguely worrying, but you don't have time to worry about Aunt Lilly's weird obsessions right now. You know for a fact that she's not in jail for arson in the future (in spite of the fact maybe she should be) and that she's alive and kicking. The same can not be said for you.

"Remind me again why we're at a car show?"

"We're here for one reason and one reason only, to scout the competition."

She's always been a focused woman your mother (unless she's driving), she sets her eyes on the prize and she doesn't let it rests until she gets it. It's admirable in a way, she wouldn't be half the teacher she is if it wasn't for her determination. But sometimes she can get a little too into things. Like the time she decided the whole family was going on a 'superfood' diet. You never want to look at another goji berry in your life.

"It's totally gonna help us win the Worlds if we know what we're up against."

You already know what you're up against and the news is not good. Das Sound Machine are acapella royalty and with good reason too. But that doesn't mean you can't support your Mom in her fruitless endeavour.

You do not, however, support seeing your Aunt Stacie rubbing herself seductively along the hood of that ancient looking car. Gross.

" _We are Das Sound Machine. A German collective operating in concert to create sonic mastery. What better way to appreciate automotive perfection._ "

You're not going to lie, Das Sound Machine are super cool. You know that she'll never admit it, but from the look on your Ma's face as she stands next to you, you can tell she thinks so too. You can't help but think that she's always been more interested in the music than the competition. And Das Sound Machine weren't lying about the sonic mastery as all of the other Bellas are left wide-eyed and speechless as their performance comes to an end.

"Do we clap?"

You're happy to see that your Mom nods and begins to clap lightly, the rest of the Bellas following suit. You like to think that you've inherited her heart of gold or at least that's what your grandparents tell you every time you see them (they've never echoed the sentiment about either of your brothers though, which is particularly satisfying).

"Barden Bellas, you came here to see us?"

Das Sound Machine have left the stage and are now standing before you and you feel like part of such a bunch of ragtag misfits as they tower over you in all their leather-clad glory. You've done extensive research on Acapedia about them and apparently their blonde leader, Kommissar, joined a branch of German private security twenty years ago and completely disappeared off the face of the earth. Suffice to say, you're a bit intimidated by her.

"Is it because you are, what do the American kids say? Jelly?"

"We are so _not_ jelly." Your Mom crosses her arms and sniffs, affronted.

"We should really thank you for making this tour a reality. You know, with your bumbling ineptitude."

 _How rude._

"We should send them something. Fruit basket?" She turns to look at her second in command, Pieter. You've always felt like a bit of a traitor for it but you're actually a big Pieter Krämer fan. He's like the coolest middle-aged DJ around. You definitely secretly listen to some of his music, it's just so funky, you can't help it! But it's not something your Moms need to know about, now or in the future.

"Yum yum."

So the guy is a little weird. But it adds to his mass appeal.

"Or would you prefer mini muffins?"

 _Duh. Who would take a fruit basket over mini muffins? Mini muffins are the best._

"Okay, we didn't come here to start something with you guys," Your Ma holds her hands up in a placatory manner. "We just wanted to check you out before the Worlds where we're gonna kick your ass."

Your Mom nods happily in agreement.

"You. You are the kicker of ass?"

"Well, yeah..."

"But you are so _tiny_."

 _Uh oh._

No one calls your Ma tiny and gets away with it. Except your Mom that is. Kommissar is in for a world of rage.

"Like an elf or is it a fairy? Sprite?" She turns and says something in German to Pieter.

"Troll."

You are deleting all of Pieter Krämer's music from your various devices as soon as you get home because that was just plain rude.

"That's it, you are like a troll."

You're starting to wonder whether Kommissar's disappearance had less to do with private security companies and more to do with your Ma finally seeking her revenge. You wouldn't blame her, this woman is _mean_.

"You are..."

You can't wait for the verbal smackdown your Ma is about to lay down. You've seen her do it a handful of times before. She tries not to go into full sarcastic rage mode in front of you because Mom tells her off but sometimes she hasn't been able to help herself. Like the time she got into it with one of the soccer Mom's at Jake's peewee game. Now that really was comedy gold.

"...physically flawless."

 _Wait, what?_

"Thank you."

"But it doesn't mean I like you."

 _What just happened?_

You've either gone completely deaf and missed the exchange entirely or you just heard your Ma _flirting_ with this evil, terrifying, probable future assassin.

 _What the actual hell?_

Your Mom looks just as baffles as you, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as she tries to figure out what to say to follow that. Whatever the freak _that_ was.

"We're not scared about the Worlds because when the Bellas hit the stage, we're gonna blow minds!"

Pieter Kramer then goes on to utter the words "Flabby Abby's baby chute". And _dear God_ , you're definitely deleting all of his music now. That was the last straw.

"Darlings, please take my advice, don't try to beat us. You can't, we're the best."

You think that anybody who addresses a group of people they've just met as 'darlings' is a one hundred per cent certifiable creep.

"And now I really must go rest my neck. It is sore from looking down on you."

You don't condone physical violence under any circumstances (unless your brothers are trying to read your diary again, although that's a given), but you're definitely mentally urging your Ma to just slap this bitch across the face.

"Okay! Just because you're making me very sexually confused does not mean you're intimidating!"

 _WHAT?!_

You must have heard hundreds of stories about this particular, very important year of your parents lives. You've certainly heard tales aplenty about Das Sound Machine and their ruthless leader but apparently the part where your mother kept saying suggestive things to said ruthless leader in front of your other mother didn't make the cut. To be fair, you can understand why. It's probably not really something you should tell your eight year old.

Your Mom does not look happy as your Ma keeps babbling on like a fool.

"Aca-wiedersehen bitches!"

 _God, she's such a dork. Sometimes I can't believe I'm related to her._

You watch as she flails her arms around with no coordination whatsoever. On second thought, sometimes you can believe it.

You can tell your Mom isn't a happy bunny as you make your way home. She'd normally sit next to your Ma on the bus but she's chosen to sit next to Stacie instead so your Ma is sitting by herself at the back, her ridiculously large headphones dwarfing her entire head.

You're sat next to your Aunt Lilly. The rest of your Aunts have come to expect it in the last week or so because they've seen you hanging out regularly together, conversing quietly. Aunt Amy has even started to refer to you as the 'Lilly-whisperer'. You're not sure it's a compliment.

When Aunt Stacie asks why your Mom looks like she just found out she has chlamydia, she mutters something about not realising that DSM would be so good. You're sure that's part of it, but you're also sure that just as a big a part of her gloomy mood stems from the woman she keeps throwing sad puppy eyes at over her shoulder. Your Ma, naturally, is completely oblivious to anything other than her music. You roll your eyes.

 _They're such idiots._

"I can take care of her." Aunt Lilly whispers in your ear.

"What?"

"The German." Aunt Lilly nods to each of your mothers in turn. "I can take care of her."

Seeing as you're entirely positive that 'taking care of her' is not in reference to making Kommissar chicken noodle soup when she has the flu (not that she'd ever get the flu. You have a theory that she might be a cyborg), you jerk your head firmly at Lilly.

"No, Aunt Lilly."

She grins at you and you can tell that for once she's not smiling because she's amused by your total lack of time travel comprehension. She's smiling in an almost affectionate way and you suddenly realise it's because it's the first time you've addressed her as 'Aunt'.

She completely surprises you by reaching out and gently squeezing your hand. Aunt Lilly has never been an overly tactile person. You can't ever remember her holding you as a child or giving you a hug as an adolescent. Especially in comparison to your other Aunts who tend to smother you in affection. You can't count how many times your face has been forcefully squashed into Aunt Stacie's heaving bosom. You'd really rather not try.

You're incredibly grateful for her comforting touch, however rare it may be. You squeeze her hand back with a small smile.

You catch Aunt Amy's eye and she raises an eyebrow at your joined hands.

"Lilly-whisperer." She mouths at you and you shake your head with a chuckle.

* * *

You've actually been incredibly excited to go to your first Bellas practice. Not only are you thrilled at the idea of making music with your mouth, you're also more than enthused to see your mothers running the show. As Aunt Aubrey and your Mom would say; you have a feeling it's going to be _aca_ -amazing.

You're wrong.

You're so wrong. Because three hours later, you're drenched in sweat, every muscle in your body hurts from continuous hula-hooping, ribbon twirling and some kind of weird tiger walking that your Mom thought up in that kooky brain of hers. Thankfully you invested in some headbands (even if wearing one makes you feel like a member of ABBA), because Aunt Amy nearly set your hair on fire when she suddenly starts breathing flames without warning.

And _worst_ of all? There had been absolutely no music making with your mouth. Or anyone's mouth for that matter.

Your Moms had explained to you somewhat about how the Bellas had started to lose their identity a little bit by the start of their final year at Barden, but you never realised it was this bad.

The only saving grace of the entire session is that you got to creep on your parents interacting some more. It's made you sad that they hardly seem to spend time with each other lately, with your Ma being busy so much of the time. So seeing her playfully smacking your Mom with a ribbon and being faux belligerent about performing any of your Mom's dance moves had been heartwarming.

But still, the presence of rhythmic gymnastics during an acapella performance? You don't dare to think what Aunt Aubrey would say about this tomfoolery.

So you nervously approach your Ma, where she's standing by the piano packing up her laptop.

"Is it weird that we never got around to singing today?"

You decide to just bite the bullet. She already thinks you're an incompetent moron anyway, how much worse could it get?

"Er, well, it's uh, kinda hard to start singing without arrangements and that's on me so...thanks for reminding me."

A little bit worse, apparently.

"Yeah Bec, we're gonna need that ASAP so we can start nailing down our choreography."

Your Mom appears at the piano, arms laden with the many unnecessary props from rehearsal.

"Right on top of that Chlo."

"Awes!"

"Yeah...awes."

Your Ma sighs slightly as you continue to linger awkwardly in front of her. It's uncomfortable for you, seeing them like this with each other. The familial shortening of each others names would normally delight you but it isn't said with the usual affectionate lilt it normally is but with more of a strained irritation. They're obviously both under a lot of stress. You still don't really understand why your Ma is keeping her internship a secret from Mom but her line of thought has at times in your future also been a little difficult to follow. You suppose it comes as part of that whole projection of being a mysterious, broody, complex human being thing. It makes sense that such a projection is still far more at play within college Beca Mitchell than it will be in self-professed family-woman, Beca Beale-Mitchell. It's a nice thought to think that you perhaps had a hand in making such self-defence mechanism all but surplus to requirement.

"So I just wanted to let you know that I've been working really hard on, you know, calming my nerves and keeping my eyes open, um, I was wondering if you could give me some pointers?"

She's looking at her phone distractedly, but you forge on nonetheless.

"Maybe, um, with the singing? I don't really know exactly where you're gonna put me in on the songs..."

"I don't mean to be rude, I just have somewhere that I need to be." She cuts across you and for a minute you want to act like a little chlid whose Mommy won't pay them any attention even though they've been tugging on her shirt sleeve for thirty seconds and burst into tears but you just look down at your shoes instead. Her face softens, and a look of guilt briefly flashes across her face. "Um, you did great today."

"Thanks."

You put on a small smile that fades as soon as she rushes away without a backward glance. You told yourself you wouldn't cry, that it would be ridiculous to cry when your Ma doesn't even have a clue who you are. But you never realised how much it would hurt, as Aunt Amy was pushing you through the door of the time machine, you hadn't stopped to think about how it would feel to be treated like a stranger by the woman you spoke your first word to, by the woman who taught you how to ride a bike, the woman whose shoulder you curled into just two weeks ago as you watched your favourite show together. So you can't help it, as a couple of tears make their way down your cheeks and a stifled sob bubbles up in your throat.

You swallow it back though, shaking your head and brushing the tears haphazardly from your face with the back of your wrist.

You'll let it hurt for now.

But you'll be damned if it's going to get in the way of your mission. If anything, this has just made you more determined to succeed.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)**


	5. Frustrations and Hypotheses

**Hey there. Apologies for the slight delay. Thanks for sticking with this fic and to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed it. All are much appreciated.**

 **Shout-outs to last chapters reviewers: BecaBeale, xcombixgirlx, Phoebex13 and the three guest reviewers. Thank you so much for taking the time and I'm glad you enjoyed.**

 **Enjoy this chapter and I hope you have a good day/night where ever you may be.**

* * *

A week later you've come to one conclusion and one conclusion only.

Your parents are absolute idiots.

And maybe you're being unfair because you have the benefit of foresight and all that jazz, but still, they're both _so_ blind. It is beyond frustrating.

You've been observing/stalking them in an entirely surreptitious, non-creepy way all week and you just don't understand how they're seemingly oblivious to the fact that they act exactly like the married couple they are set to become in just a few short years from now.

You've been mentally cataloguing every single time they so much as breathe around each other and considering your Ma's new incredibly busy schedule, that doesn't happen nearly as much as you would like. But that doesn't mean you haven't been left with a plethora of material to work with that fully supports the hypothesis that your mothers belong together in any given place, at any given time and in any given reality.

Exhibit A:

 _You're sitting at the kitchen counter struggling to get to grips with the new phone you'd been forced by necessity to invest in yesterday (what the hell is 3G?), when your Ma hurries into the kitchen with your Mom hot on her heels._

 _You freeze instantly, your shoulders hunched and your head down, hoping that if you stay deadly still they won't notice you. It seems to work as neither of them pay you any mind. You feel like you're one of those people who film nature documentaries and have been waiting for years to film the last two white rhinos left in the wild in their natural habitat and they've just come waltzing in when you were least prepared._

 _Or maybe you're being ridiculous. You've been known to get carried away sometimes._

" _I don't have time, Chloe."_

" _You need to eat properly, Beca."_

 _Your Ma huffs and carries on rooting through a cupboard as your Mom clicks her tongue irritably and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge._

" _I do eat properly." Ma replies, letting out a triumphant sound as she pulls a bag of squashed Haribo from the back of the cupboard. "Aha! Amy didn't get to all of them."_

" _That is not lunch."_ _Mom rolls her eyes as she begins to butter two slices of bread._

" _Not all of us are willing to survive solely on a diet of spinach and corn on the cob."_

 _Your Mom does eat a ridiculous amount of corn on the cob. And she does try and sneak spinach into absolutely everything. Including the turkey sandwich she's currently putting together._

" _Well you literally can't survive on a diet of Haribo and Doritos." Your Mom admonishes._

" _I think you'll find that I'm giving it a pretty good shot." Your Ma retorts smartly, stuffing the sweets into her bag. "Chlo, I've really gotta go. I'm gonna be late."_

" _Since when are you in such a rush to get to class anyway?"_

 _You'd guess probably around the time she started going to a top secret internship instead._

" _Since I actually want to get enough credits to graduate."_

 _Your Mom's sandwich-making frenzy stills for a moment at the utterance of the dreaded 'G' word but she brushes it aside and finishes wrapping the turkey sandwich in cling film before passing it to Ma, who rolls her eyes but takes it with her regardless._

" _See you later!" Your Mom calls to her as she rushes out of the door with a muttered 'yep'._

 _Her head suddenly pops back into view._

" _And Chloe?"_

 _Your Mom's head snaps up from where's she wiping some bread crumbs off the counter._

" _Yeah?"_

" _Thanks." Your Ma raises the sandwich and gives her a small but affectionate smile. "See you tonight."_

 _The door slams a second later and you turn back to face your Mom who is grinning like a total dork._

 _It's a scene you must have watched a thousand times. The old 'Ma sneakily pretends she's only going to eat sweets for lunch to get Mom to make it for her' trick._

 _They're married already and they don't even know it._

 _Idiots._

Exhibit B:

" _Beca!"_

 _You're lying on your bed playing a game on your phone called Angry Birds (you're not sure why the birds are so angry but it's seriously addictive), when you hear your Mom's voice echo through the house. You're immediately on your feet and edging towards the door because you're like a bloodhound on the trail at the first sign of any possible interaction between your parents, no matter how small._

" _What?!"_ _Your Ma yells back and you're pretty sure that she's in her room and your Mom is somewhere downstairs from the volume they are yelling at._

" _My laptop won't turn on! Will you come and look at it?"_

" _Will you two stop yelling, I'm on the phone!"_

" _Sorry Stace!"_

 _You hear the door to the attic room creak open and your Mom come thundering down the stairs. For a petite woman she's always been very heavy-footed. You creep stealthily from your own room (because unlike your Ma, you're basically a ninja) and glide along the carpeted landing until you're lurking at the top of the stairs and can hear them talking in the living room._

" _What do you mean it won't turn on?"_

" _It ran out of charge so I plugged it in but now it won't turn back on." Your Mom sounds frantic. "Please fix it. I've just written half of my Russian Lit essay on there."_

 _"Oh shit." Your Ma's tone is teasing. "The curse of the Russian Lit strikes again."_

 _You hear a faint slapping sound and your Ma lets out a little yelp._

" _Just help me!"_

" _Alright, alright, jeez. Do ya have to be so abusive?"_

" _You'll find out the answer to that question if you don't fix my laptop."_

" _I'm not sure I'm going to be able to fix this Chlo." Your Ma says in a grim tone. "This is a serious problem."_

" _Oh my God! Are you serious? What am I going to do? Beca, I can't write that essay again, I just can't! It's taken me ages! And I don't have the money to get a new laptop! Oh my God...Why are you laughing?!"_

 _Your Mom sounds close to tears but you can hear your Ma starting to crack up to the point where she's laughing hysterically._

" _Beca! I swear to God!"_

" _Like I said, a serious problem." Your Ma tries to catch her breath. "It's called not turning the charger on at the wall."_

 _You hear a faint click and can imagine quite clearly how smug your Ma looks right about now. Your Mom has never been particularly technologically savvy. As technology has advanced she's just become more and more lost. She's the only person you know who still owns a typewriter; most of your friends don't even know what one is. Whereas your Ma has always been into her gadgets and gizmos, using all the latest tech at work on a daily basis._

" _Beca, you bitch! I'm gonna kill you!"_

" _C'mon Chlo. Let's be reasonable here. I fixed it for you didn't-"_

 _Whatever your Ma was about to say next is cut off by the loud squeak she makes as she is clearly ambushed._

 _Now this you have to see._

 _Unfortunately, as you try to stealthily hunker down to look between the slats in the bannister the phone clutched in your hand makes a successful bid for freedom and also makes a decidedly moment-ruining 'thunk' on every step down._

 _You dash after it, snatching it up and sliding it into your back pocket as though it will cause less offence if out of sight. Your mothers are both staring at you in with varying degrees of surprise, amusement and arched, questioning eyebrows._

" _Oh look, I dropped my phone. Silly me. I'm such a butterfingers sometimes. Just coming downstairs to get a thing from the kitchen. Like a snack type thing. Also known as just a snack. From the kitchen. Bye now."_

 _So you could have played it cooler._

" _She's so weird." You hear your Ma whisper to your Mom as you make your escape to the kitchen to grab a thing/snack, cursing yourself the whole way._

 _Maybe you're still working on that whole ninja thing._

Exhibit C:

 _You're curled up on the couch, scribbling thoughts down in your brand new songwriting journal (turns out going back in time to save your parents marriage is excellent lyric fodder; now if only you could find an appropriate word that rhymes with time machine), when the front door opens. To your immense surprise, the two people that enter are your aforementioned parents. Unfortunately for you (and them), they haven't been spending a lot of one-on-one time with each other lately, what with Ma's top secret internship and the small fact that apparently she's currently someone else's girlfriend or whatever._

" _Thanks for the ride." Your Ma is saying as she pulls off her boots._

" _I should be the one thanking you considering you wouldn't let me drive back." You can't see your Mom's face but you can tell she's rolling her eyes._

" _It was raining Chlo." Your Ma shrugs lightly. "And you have absolutely no concept of breaking distance."_

" _I totes do!" Your Mom gasps in mock offence. "I just choose to ignore it."_

" _Hence why I'm not getting into a car with you behind the wheel in torrential rain. Ever."_

" _Rude. I'm never picking you up again."_

" _Whatever you say Beale." Ma shrugs again, not believing her for a second._

" _Ugh, fine." Your Mom concedes. "Hey, what are you up to this evening?"_

" _I'm heading over to Jesse's in a bit. It's movie night or whatever."_

 _You're not sure if that's actually true or if this is just another lame 'internship cover story'._

" _Oh."_

 _From your position, covertly flickering your eyes between them and the messy scribbles on the page below you in case they look up and catch you gawping, you can see your Mom's shoulders deflate slightly._

" _He knows you hate movies right?"_

" _Yeah, but he loves them." Your Ma makes a 'what ya gonna do' gesture with the hand not clutching her bag. "What? Did you have 'The Bellas take on the World' plans tonight or something?"_

" _No, actually." Your Mom nudges the floor with her toe, uncharacteristically subdued. "I was just going to invite you to watch some trashy reality TV with me. I feel like we haven't really hung out for a while."_

 _Your Ma bites her lip guiltily and you roll your eyes at her._

 _Just tell her about the internship you dummy._

" _I know. I'm sorry." Is what she says instead. "I'll make it up to you okay? Sometime this week?"_

 _"Okay." Your Mom agrees quietly but you can tell she's still upset._

" _What are we watching anyway?" Your Ma nudges her lightly, trying to add some levity to the weird, unsettling atmosphere that's formed between them._

" _RuPaul's Drag Race?"_

" _Ugh, no fair. You know I love that shit. You better not start season six without me."_

" _I wouldn't dream of it."_

" _Sweet." Your Ma grins at her and you roll your eyes again, because she still says ridiculous things like 'sweet' and 'dude' in the future. If you'd let something like that slip out of your mouth when you were at school, you would have been mocked for weeks. More than you already were for being a drama and choir geek anyway. "It's a date. I'll bring snacks."_

" _Of course you will." Mom laughs lightly and Ma gasps in an exaggerated manner and rests her hands on her stomach defensively._

 _"Excuse you? Are you trying to imply something?"_

" _You said it, not me." Mom jabs the spot on her stomach not covered by her hands teasingly and Ma jumps back._

 _"Now who's the rude one?_

 _She points at Mom faux threateningly and begins to head for the staircase, finally noticing that you're sat on the couch as she passes you. "Hey Legacy." She pats the top of your head lightly as she sweeps past._

" _Hey." You choke out because that's the first time she's deliberately touched you since you got here and you're feeling suddenly rather over-emotional. You're trying to play it cool though because she'll just think you're really weird and never speak to you again if you burst into tears and jump up and hug her like you really want to right now._

 _So you take some deep, calming breaths and watch as she thunders up the stairs like a small elephant._

 _You turn your attention back to your other mother and see her still staring wistfully at the staircase. You wish you could help her more. You wish that you could just tell her that you know that everything will work out okay and that she should just tell your Ma how she feels._

 _But you can't. You know you can't risk altering the timeline of events too much, or more than you being here already has. You're just here to make sure that everything runs smoothly and nothing intervenes in your parents big moment. Like your crazy, time-travelling, sandwich enthusiast of an Aunt for example._

 _It doesn't make the obvious moon eyes your Mom keeps throwing your Ma's way any less painful to watch though._

 _And it doesn't make your Ma's blatant obliviousness to said moon eyes any less frustrating._

 _Idiots. Complete idiots._

Need you go on?

They're more conspicuous than the box of frogs Aunt Lilly keeps in your room. Although you hadn't actually noticed the box of frogs until one had escaped and you'd found it in your shoe so maybe that's not the best comparison to use.

Anyway, that's not important.

What is important is that you need to continue your excellent espionage skills.

Like seriously, maybe you've found your calling. Emily Beale-Mitchell: World's coolest super-spy. Just saying.

You're currently sat in the living room in preparation for a Bella movie night. You haven't had one since that first night in the Bella house because Mom insisted that you should all be present and Ma hasn't been around and Aunt Amy keeps 'mysteriously' disappearing at night time.

Ma had promised that she'd be home from 'Jesse's' in time tonight though but she's yet to show up. Your Mom, Auntie Rose and Aunt Flo are in the kitchen preparing snacks and you're sat in the living room with Aunt Amy, Aunt Stacie, Jessica and Ashley. You have no idea where Aunt Lilly is. Probably down in the basement tinkering with the time machine.

Aunt Stacie's sat next to you going through a stack of photo albums that her and Mom had compiled over the last few years of pictures taken at various Bella competitions and social events. You've seen a lot of these before considering the majority of these very albums are slotted into the living room bookcase in your house back home.

Aunt Stacie flicks over the page and a picture you've never seen before catches your eye immediately. It's a close up of your parents celebrating on stage, Ma wrapped up in your Mom's arms like she was born to be there, Mom's cheek resting on top of her head, eyes closed and grinning like she could quite happily stay like that forever.

So you may be a bit of a hopeless romantic.

 _Sue me._

You look at the photo for a long moment, an ingeniously evil plan formulating in the part of your brain that's reserved for only your best laid schemes. You're not really the scheming type so it's a little rusty from lack of exercise but you're pretty sure this plan is brilliant.

Now you just need to make sure the execution is as perfect as the theory. You knew that ten years of drama school would count for something. They were all in preparation for this very moment.

"So..." You start casually, tapping a finger just below the picture of your parents being oh so platonic. "When did Beca and Chloe start dating? Before or after you won Nationals for the first time?"

Four sets of eyes immediately widen in your direction.

 _Nailed it._

"They're so cute together." You turn your attention towards Aunt Stacie to see the beginnings of a smirk just starting to form on her surprised face.

"You are seriously the most stupid person I've ever met."

Of course it's Aunt Amy who chimes in first.

"What? Why?"

Your voice is the perfect blend of 'oh no, did I say something wrong?' and 'you just hurt my poor, innocent, ignorant feelings'. God, you're good. You're not one to boast but there is a reason that you won your drama school's 'most convincing sad face' award four years in a row.

"Give her a break, Amy." Aunt Stacie nudges her. "You can't blame the kid for thinking it."

"Thinking what?"

"Chloe and Beca aren't together, Em."

"They're not?" You feign immense surprise and duck your head in faux embarrassment at being so terribly mistaken. "I thought...they just seem..."

You're so going to get that EGOT one day. As well as being a super-spy. The future is looking bright.

"We know." Jessica reaches out and pats you comfortingly on the forearm. "It's an easy mistake to make. They're just very good friends."

" _Very_ good friends." Aunt Amy waggles her eyebrows at you. And ew. You don't appreciate that suggestion at all.

But needs must.

"Oh. So they...?"

"No Legacy." Aunt Stacie shoots Aunt Amy a look. "Stop confusing her. Beca is dating Jesse, Em."

Your look of complete shock is more than easy to feign this time because that little tidbit of information never fails to surprise (and horrify) you every time you think about it.

"I know." Aunt Amy seems to agree with your sentiment as she wrinkles her nose in distaste. "I've been trying to hypnotise her into ditching that cabbage patch kid in her sleep, but she's such a stubborn little git."

"Amy! You're not supposed to intervene. It's Beca's business, she can do whatever she wants." Ashley admonishes her.

"That girl wouldn't know what she wanted if it was tattooed on her titties. It's tragic." And you could have done without that imagery thank you. "And I've got a hundred bucks riding on this shit. If those two drongos don't diddle each other down under," Oh dear god. "before Christmas, that's like twenty trips to Taco Bell down the tubes. I mean, most of that I nicked out of Beca's purse anyway, but still."

Ah. So there is a bet.

"So yeah," Aunt Stacie shakes her head at Amy and turns to you. "Sorry to ruin the inspiration for your lesbian erotic novel, but those two are strictly at pressed lemon status."

This plan is starting to feel less and less ingenious. You may have gained valuable intel but you really could have done without phrases like 'diddle each other down under' and 'lesbian erotic novel' being thrown around in reference to your parents. Although you don't know what you were expecting from a conversation with Aunt Amy and Aunt Stacie involved.

"Speak to CR if you want in on that bet though, she's the bookie. We've got a pretty good pool going. It's anybody's game."

"I still don't think it was a good idea to let a recovering gambling addict have access to all that cash." Jessica worries her lip between her teeth.

"She just likes to lie in it occasionally. It's like immersion therapy for her." Aunt Stacie reassures her with a light flap of her hand. "And no one knows how to run a tighter bet than Cynthia Rose."

"What bet?"

You all swivel towards the doorway where your Mom is standing with Aunt Flo, both holding bowls full of popcorn and cheese puffs.

"Um, just a bet about how many of the swimming club guys I can get with in one night." Aunt Stacie covers relatively smoothly. "You want in?"

"No thanks." Your Mom shakes her head in amusement. "Just be safe and make sure none of them get weird and start hanging around outside the house again. I don't want any distractions. We all need to be focused on Worlds."

"Cool it, Chloe." Aunt Amy tells her. "Hey, you'll never guess the gem that Legacy just came out with. She just asked if -."

You have no idea how but suddenly Aunt Lilly is there with a pillow in her hand, a pillow that she just used to smack Aunt Amy across the face with and cut her sentence mercifully short.

"Ow! Lilly?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Aunt Amy grabs the pillow from her and tries to smack her with it but Aunt Lilly easily slides to the side and it ends up smacking Aunt Stacie in the face instead.

"Ouch!"

"Pillow fight!" Aunt Flo yells, putting the bowls down on the table and dashing up the stairs to grab every pillow she can find.

Thank God. Your Mom finding out that you fake thought that her and Ma were a couple was not part of your plan. You don't want to freak her out and make her feel awkward around you. That and you don't want her to get suspicious of the fact that every time they interact you always randomly seem to be in the vicinity like you have some weird obsession with them or something. Which you so don't. You just have a perfectly normal vested interest, you know, considering you're their daughter and all.

Aunt Lilly winks at you from across the room and you smile at her gratefully before Aunt Amy forces a pillow into your hands and smacks you across the head with the one she's already holding.

A fully fledged pillow fight breaks out and you have to admit you're having a lot of fun. You understand completely why your parents always speak so fondly of their time in the Bellas and why they're still so close to the others in spite of various distances between them. There's just something special about the bond that exists here. You suppose acapella does that to people. It's a magical thing. It's a shame you'll never truly get to experience being a Bella in your own right.

By the time your Ma arrives two pillows have burst, Aunt Amy's knocked over a lamp and there are cheese puffs all over the floor.

"You know this sets women back, like thirty years, right?" She says, donned in some fancy red. blazer come jacket that she would never wear in your time.

"We're relieving some stress." Your Mom tells her.

"This was on the porch."

Your Mom jumps down from the couch and moves to stand in front of her.

"Oooh, what is that? It looks fancy."

Your Mom reaches out and takes the patterned envelope from Ma's hands. She opens the envelope, promptly snaps it shut in surprise when it begins to sing, and then opens it out fully.

"Whoa, looks like we've been invited to some kind of party."

"We're going to sing?!" It's out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, which is a common problem for you. "Finally!"

You just really like to sing, okay?

With the prospect of your lifelong dream of being able to sing with the Bellas becoming a reality and the new found knowledge that you definitely have plenty of allies in the fight to make sure your parents end up together you're positively beaming. Watching your parents playfully smacking each other with the couch cushions in a world of their own doesn't hurt your good mood either.

You could have done without Aunt Lilly revealing that thing about all her teeth being from different people though.

But beggars can't be choosers.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading :)**


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